


Stranger in the Valley

by Xamem



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Faeries - Freeform, Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 09:39:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13544664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xamem/pseuds/Xamem
Summary: Maeve is not who everyone thinks she is. They assume that she's the granddaughter of Finn Byrne who died ten years ago, leaving the farm to become a forest. Little do they know that she's actually a member of one of the powerful Petal Warriors, a faction of the Fae long ago thought to have left the Valley.Why is she in the Valley - why now? A certain group of mischievous young adults intend to uncover the mystery behind the newest resident - but as they dig deeper, they begin to realize that this is about a lot more than flowers.





	1. Opening Up

Maeve had never expected to end up taking over the abandoned farmhouse on the far western property of town. But here she was, being greeted by the old man who was the self-proclaimed mayor of the town, pretending that she had ever known him. That she had ever come here as a little girl with her grandpa, who to her was only the man that had owned this farm years ago. She remembered the time when his fields were well-kept, when fields of flowers were in constant bloom. Now, ten years after his death, the soil was covered in grass and weeds. Felled tree limbs and rocky boulders created, and subsequently blocked, trails through the veritable forest the farm had become. Maeve was perfectly at home with this, but Lewis clearly was not, shaking his head in dismay at the undergrowth.

“Yeah. Looks like a lot of work.” This was the one thing she disliked about the unruly forest that had sprung up. While she and her people were perfectly at home, she hadn’t been sent to be at home. She had been sent to grow things, to cultivate food for the people, and this was going to make it a lot harder. Especially since she was probably going to have to do it the old-fashioned way, with iron tools that would likely leave blisters. 

“Sure is,” Lewis said, smiling as he did so. “But I’m sure you’re up for the task. After all, you grew up helping your grandpa grow the flowers. It’s like riding a bike.” 

Maeve frowned. If her memory served her correctly, a bike was one of those metal contraptions that were propelled through pedals, things that people used to transport themselves quickly when they needed to be somewhere. She had never ridden one, so the experiences weren’t comparable to her. 

Lewis chuckled to himself, digging through his pockets for the key to the house. As grateful as she was that he could hold a conversation by himself, she wanted him to leave so she could start planning the farm – the vegetables would go there, the flowers to the south, by the pond. But if she was ever going to plant anything, she needed to clear the land. 

Lewis held the key out, slightly rusted and dingy. Maeve took it, trying not to grimace as it burned her skin. She would fashion a new one soon enough, and she could erect charms to protect her home in the meantime. 

"Well, I’ll leave you to it, Miss Mae. Maybe you should stop by the tavern later. I’m sure everyone’s dying to meet the new farmer.” With that he left, whistling a tune as he went. 

“Finally,” Maeve murmured to herself, tossing the key under the rotting doormat. “Thought he’d never leave.” Nobody was around, and she was so far out she would probably be able to detect people coming before they made it, so she abandoned the tools in favor of her magic. It would only be for a little bit, until she got tools that wouldn’t burn her skin. 

She couldn’t go too fast or the townspeople would get suspicious. They couldn’t know who she was. Couldn’t know _what_ she was, or the work she was sent to do would be pointless. 

Hours later, she had cleared a small section of land to the west of the house. The trees were felled, the land tilled, and seeds – the parsnips? She wasn’t well-versed in human vegetables – planted. The seeds were a welcome gift from Lewis, an easy crop to grow, especially for a first-time farmer. 

“Where was it that old man said I should go tonight?” Maeve murmured to herself, rubbing the dark soil between her fingers. “The tavern, or something.” She was a bit wary of appearing in public so quickly, but the fastest way to learn how to be human was to be around humans. 

She sighed. It was something she was going to have to get used to, she supposed, so she pulled her waves of magenta hair into a high bun and headed off. Her overalls and flannel from the day would have to be enough. 

* * *

Maeve wasn’t sure what she was expecting from the tavern, but this wasn’t it. She had always liked to watch the people in town, well before she ever thought she would live among them, and the tavern had held a kind of mystery only rivaled by the city. People went in sober and left a mess, unable to walk without the support of a friend. She assumed that it was like the faerie parties, full of wild creatures, strong drinks, and loud music. Some people went every night, and she admired what she assumed was a high alcohol tolerance. 

What she found was instead a very mellow atmosphere with maybe three people. Perhaps nine was too early. Scanning the room, she saw a hefty blonde woman to the left, a younger girl with a blue mop of hair cleaning a glass, and a man near the fireplace brooding over his beer. Not exactly the party she had been expecting. Lewis wasn’t even there. In his absence, Maeve headed for the young girl behind the bar, who seemed to be the most welcoming. 

“Hi!” She was literally sunshine, beaming at her despite not even knowing her name. “You must be the new farmer, Maeve.” 

“That I am,” Maeve said, smiling not nearly so widely. They stared at each other, the girl’s smile starting drop as Maeve stayed silent. “And you are?” 

“Emily,” she said, brightening right back up. “I work here. Obviously,” she said gesturing to the bottles of liquor behind her. Maeve didn’t recognize any of them. At home they made their own wine, infusing it with their special magic. She couldn’t imagine that human liquor would do much to her. 

“Do you want a drink?” Emily asked, noticing that Maeve had been staring. “On the house, to celebrate your arrival to the Valley.” Maeve had been living in the Valley far longer than Emily had been alive, but she held her tongue. “Sure. Surprise me.” 

As Emily mixed her drink, a complicated concoction with at least four kinds of alcohol, she scanned the room again. Lewis had finally showed up, as well as another man seated at a different table. Maeve wasn’t particularly interested in talking to any of them, so she tried to flash Emily another smile over her glass, although it felt more like a grimace. 

“Tell me more about this town. Like, is there anything else to do besides drink?” 

Emily laughed, a high, tinkly sound, like bells. “We have a few festivals every season. There’s a beach, a library. The mines will probably be clear in a few days, and that’s always an adventure. Fishing…” She went on, listing a variety of activities, none of which sounded like anything Maeve was interested in. 

“What’s his deal?” she said, jerking her head in the direction of the man next to the fireplace. He’d already downed two beers in the time she had sat down and was working on a third. While everyone else seemed to at least smile and wave at the portly bartender, even if they drank in silence, he’d merely grunted, collected a six pack, and retreated to his corner. From what Maeve could tell, this was unusual human behavior. 

Emily’s smile cracked, a barely discernible difference. She sighed. “That’s Shane. He’s a regular.” She didn’t offer any more information, and Maeve didn’t push it. Her head was starting to buzz with the alcohol – perhaps her tolerance wasn’t as high as she had originally thought. Or maybe their liquor was just stronger. 

She pushed back from the bar, only giving a wave of goodbye when she saw that Emily did so. She was going to have an awful lot to learn.


	2. Watch Your Back

It had been a week, and Maeve felt comfortable enough with the townsfolk that she could wave casually whenever she saw anyone. She remembered few names – Emily was easy, because she was one of the few that stood out as much as she did. Same with Maru, the sweet and smart daughter of the inventor with skin that mimicked Maeve’s own. And an inventor, to boot, something her people didn’t have, not like Maru. She had told Maeve all about some robot she was building, which was absolutely fascinating to her – a fully automated creature that could do simple tasks, but without the use of magic? She wanted to grow closer, to study these things and see if they could make her farm life easier.

As for that… Well, it wasn’t going as smoothly as she thought it would have. She thought that an abandoned farm in the middle of a thick wooded area would be enough to dissuade any visitors, but Lewis, despite his age, always found a way to drop the mail off at the most random times. The village children, Jas and Vincent, were constantly scampering around the rotting logs and felled trees. (Didn’t they have school, she would wonder? Or a mother?) Sometimes she would see a flash of purple hair, but she had yet to catch the culprit – probably Abigail, spying on her for whatever reason. Regardless of who it was, it was too risky to use any kind of magic, so she was reduced to actual manual labor. (The horror.) A thick pair of gloves protected her hands from the burning, and the tightness developing in her arms was a welcome surprise.

She was tilling the soil, adding fertilizer for the fresh parsnip seeds she had bought the day before when a twig snapped behind her, to the left. A typical human probably wouldn’t hear it amongst all the other sounds of the forest.

But Maeve did.

She froze, tracking the movement behind her. Whoever they were, they hadn’t stopped – clearly, they weren’t aware that she had noticed them. Or maybe they just didn’t care about being stealthy.

The spy was moving southward, towards the Cindersap Forest, which was really just an extension of the farm if you thought about it.

Maeve turned, clutching her axe. With her magic she could easily take out an opponent, but if she was wrong – if it was just another curious citizen – she couldn’t risk exposing herself.

She didn’t mind the idea of giving them a solid slice with her axe, however. Would serve them right for spying on her like this.

“Don’t make me come in there.” The rustling stopped, and Maeve darted forward, rapidly closing the distance.

She swung the axe and made solid contact with a tree, the _twak_ reverberating up her arms. She was fast, unnaturally so, but her target was even faster, darting away before she could get a good look at them. All she got was a glimpse of purple that disappeared in a flash.

“Weird,” she murmured, scratching her head. She followed the path to where the figure should have been, but it only led to a dead end.

This made her immediately suspicious. None in the Valley had magic, as far as she knew, and if they did they had been keeping it hidden away for, well, ever. But this disappearance, as if through the shadows, reeked of magic; she could practically smell it.

Maeve hesitated, unsure if she should pursue the matter or leave it alone. Was it worth exposing herself to a potential enemy? She knew they were spying on her. She could leave out traps, catch them in the act and confront them with the element of surprise on her side. There was no point in revealing herself yet, not without more information. So she left that patch of the forest, looking her shoulders every few steps.

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. She had cleared a bit more land – slow and steady progress, _that_ task was – and had tended to the plants as best she could. She had to admit that she hadn’t expected to enjoy the act of tending to the greenery so much. But something about seeing the tender green leaves shoot up from dark, nutrient-rich soil, all from the care she had given them – it was like creating life, she imagined, nurturing something that completely depended on her.

She had gardened back home, of course – all of the Fae were expected to contribute somehow to the community, be it through producing food or weaving beautiful dresses or crafting durable weapons, but her talent had been with animals. Birds were naturally drawn to her, bringing with them nuts and berries. She could calm a horse with a simple motion of her hands, hands that had never been particularly good with a needle and thread.

The thought of the spy worried her through the night. Were they a neighboring Fae faction? They hadn’t had problems in years, not since she had been a young child. She had vague memories of fire-tipped arrows raining on their treetop homes; metal clashing on metal and the stench of iron flooding the forest floor. The Petal Warriors had driven them back, but only just, and her people had grown lax since then.

But that’s why she was here, wasn’t it? To cultivate power. They had two sources – the earth the things that grew out of it, and humans. The more humans devoted their resources to them, truly loved to serve them, the more powerful they grew. That was what humans were originally for, anyways, and the lack of belief had caused her people to weaken.

Some of them had diverted away from the original plan. Maeve scowled, thinking of that foul Morris at Joja Mart. If the people of the city were like that, she had no desire to ever travel there. The slimy business man cheated and lied and was clearly the cause of the pollution of the Valley. Pierre was a soft creature, delicate and spineless, but at least he cared for the sacred earth she had been sent to protect. She let her thoughts wander, daydreaming about ways she could eradicate Morris – Fae food, so he would be indebted to them. Or even better, poisoned food, so he could feel the pain he had inflicted on the Valley.

She knew she wasn’t allowed to directly harm him, but it was still a nice thought.

* * *

That night Maeve headed for the tavern again. She had spent nearly every night there since her arrival, figuring it was the easiest (and most socially acceptable way) to watch people. She had learned the following: Shane was a heavy drinker, the fat blonde woman preferred pale ale, that bumbling mayor most certainly didn’t feel anything for Marnie but raw sexual attraction, the poor girl. Leah had a strange interest in Maeve, always staring and whispering with the poetic-looking auburn-haired stranger she had come to know was Elliot. Neither of them ever approached her.

She had yet to see a potential source for the spy from that morning, which only confirmed her suspicions that it was another Fae faction. If so, they were intruding, breaking the codes set in place after the surrender. She thought of venturing into the forest. Concluded it would be a bad idea in the dark, and resolved to set out in the morning.

Whispers from her right caught her attention, and she honed in, trying to discern the voices without making it obvious she was listening in. Her name was repeated several times – or, at least, they attempted to, because clearly none of the three young adults around the pool table knew what it was.

“May?” That one was close. “Margaret?” Not so much. “Marigold?”

Maeve burst into a fit of laughter at the last one – not because it was particularly funny, but it reminded her of someone from home who always had to have marigolds in her outfits, which were possibly the tackiest flowers ever. All three of them froze, and she turned, giving that practiced smile and wave. She had gotten a lot better at it, and it no longer felt like she was barring fangs.

“Couldn’t help but overhear you,” she said, hoping down from the barstool and approaching them. Two of the three, at least, seemed relaxed, if not happy to see her; the one with dark bangs and black hoodie seemed to retreat into himself. “It’s Maeve, so whoever said May was the closest.”

The girl with the purple hair – Abigail, Maeve remembered, she was Pierre’s daughter and far bolder – gave an enthusiastic _whoop_. “Told y’all I was right!”

“But you weren’t,” the blonde one pointed out. Maeve suspected his name started with the letter A. Or maybe it was S. She wasn’t sure, because they’d only nodded in passing, but he was friendly enough. “It was Maeve, not a month.”

Abigail shrugged, chalking up a pool stick. “It was closer than _Margaret_ , Sam, so I was more right than you.”

Sam. Sam, Sam, Sam. Easy enough to remember, now that she had heard it in context.

“I’ve met both of you, but I don’t think I know your friend.” She had seen him at some point, certainly, and she knew he lived on the north side of town, but she hadn’t ventured there for real and didn’t know what was up there. Did he live alone? With his parents? Who even were his parents?

All three of them attempted to introduce him at the same time. Startled, the two friends paused, allowing him to speak. “I’m Sebastian. My mom mentioned that your farm would be good for business.”

Ah. Robin, bright, red-haired, mother to the only girl in town whose skin tone mirrored her own. She’d stopped by the house ever so briefly to discuss the work that would be necessary to build a coop. She missed her chickens, their soft feathers and friendly clucks, her favorite of the animals she cared for. Sebastian was even more ghostly looking than his mother, his dark ensemble only sharpening the contrast.

“Um, yeah. I was hoping she could help me build a coop.” The silence had tensed to the point of palpability; Abigail had returned to the pool table but was staring at the balls, unable to force herself into making a move. Sam fidgeted with a hole in his jeans while Sebastian stared directly at her – not angry, exactly, but certainly pained. Maeve felt suddenly and entirely unwelcome.

“Well, it was nice to meet you.” Sam visibly relaxed while Abigail finally took her shot, sinking it. What was wrong with these people? “Guess I’ll see you around.” She doubted she would, considering how little she had seen of him so far. She left with a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. Perhaps she wasn’t the only person in town with unsettling secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, look at that! I updated a fic within a week! That's pretty neat. Let's see how long I can keep it up.
> 
> I appreciate the kudos and comments so far! If you liked it, maybe drop a line? :)


	3. Breaking and Entering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maeve finds something that was lost, and someone unexpected.

The Junimos had been lost to the Fae for years. At the height of their power, the Junimos and the Fae had had a beneficial partnership. They would collect parcels for the Fae, and in return they would protect them, back in a time when protection was a valued commodity. But the magic of the forest had depleted and the Junimos had disappeared. Nobody knew where they had gone, or even if they were still alive. 

So when Maeve felt their energy – weak, but present – she thought that she was dreaming. She ignored it, thinking that maybe the forest was messing with her. She had been disconnected from her people and true magic for so long that she was imaging things. But Junimo energy was distinct, a unique pulse that was unlike any other magic in the Valley, and it itched at the back of her head like a bug bite, begging her to scratch it. When the crops were watered, (a task which took at least half the day) she followed the sensation through the town square, all the way to the abandoned building that she had frequently passed on the way to the river. 

To her surprise, Mayor Lewis was outside, staring wistfully at the building. She hadn’t seen him too often – in fact, she had been avoiding him. Not because he was bad, or anything, but she knew that catching his attention would require at least half an hour of conversation, and she just didn’t have the patience for it. She froze, wondering if she could sneak in the back, but he turned and saw her, forming a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. Trapped, she stuck her hands in the pockets of her overalls. She would pretend she was in a hurry somewhere else, then sneak around the back. 

“Hello, Miss Maeve. I trust that you’re having a good morning.” She didn’t comment that it was past noon, nearly two, in fact. 

“Sweaty, but good.” Her cabbages were nearly ready to harvest, and the other crops were growing well. She had cleared out a good section of the forest – an act which pierced her heart but she knew was necessary to make room for her future chicken coop. “What are you doing here? I thought this part of town was abandoned.” Lewis sighed, scratching the back of his head. “Well, it is. There’s the park over there where Vincent and Jas play.” Maeve made a mental note to avoid that area. “The community center used to be a bustling part of town. The young folk spent their Friday nights here… Your grandfather spent a significant amount of time taking care of it.” Maeve tried to pull her face into a look of sadness. Getting used to human emotions, and how they were used to respond to others in socially acceptable ways, was still difficult for her. 

“Oh, cool. What… happened?” She realized as she said it that the answer was to the east, that horrible megacorporation that reeked of iron and misery. She could still remember the day Joja moved into the valley, how her father’s lips had tightened as she asked questions. “I mean, surely Joja couldn’t have totally destroyed the spirit of the Valley.” 

“Joja, war, teenagers and their technology. It just started to decay, and now we don’t know how to fix it. Just a relic of the days gone past.” Maeve had started shifting towards the building, wondering if it would be considered rude for her to ask if it was unlocked. The Junimo energy had strengthened in the time they stood there contemplating the past. She wasn’t sure if Lewis had noticed her movement or a change in her eyes, but he dug through his pockets and held out a small key. “Here. You’re young and curious. You’ll get more out of it than I will.” She clasped the key, noting that the copper didn’t burn her skin. 

“Thank you, Lewis. Really.” It struck her as oddly kind. Nobody back home would just hand her a precious memento so trustingly. “I’ll… Take good care of it.” This seemed to brighten Lewis from gloomy to melancholic. “Means a lot, Maeve. I know your grandpa would be proud of you, keeping this place out of Joja Corp’s hands.” He clapped her on the back, a gesture that startled her and caused her to stumble. Lewis merely found this amusing and waved goodbye, decidedly happier than he had been when she arrived. 

Maeve looked at the key, then to the building. It was practically humming with magical energy, irresistibly so. 

“Guess I’m going in,” she murmured, juggling the key in the lock. It was sticky, as if the building hadn’t been opened in years. It probably hadn’t, though she _did_ notice a broken window to the right. The young adults of the town appeared in her mind unbidden, and she had no doubts that they were responsible for it. 

Other than the glass on the ground, there didn’t seem to be other signs of burglary or vandalism. A thick layer of dust covered the ground, and the floorboards were torn up, some rotting or with rusty nails. The place was clearly once loved – a bulletin board was covered in notes; the fish tank, though cracked and devoid of water, was full of brightly colored pebbles and structures. 

“Hello?” Maeve whispered. She hadn’t played with a Junimo, or even seen one, since she was a young child. Since their disappearance, her people hadn’t liked to talk about it. They were self-sufficient, or they tried their best to be. To do otherwise would be a sign of weakness. “Junimos?” 

To her left came a scurrying sound, a slight rustling of the floorboards that she whipped around to face. It was entirely possible that this was a trap – that the Junimos actually _were_ lost forever, that some other nasty, magical creature had taken residence here and had lured her down for dinner. She’d heard stories of the creatures that hunted the Fae. They weren’t as invincible as they would have wished. 

Maeve concentrated on the energy around her – breathing deeply, trying her best to manipulate it into a small flame. Fire magic had never been a strong point of hers, but she knew how to make and maintain a fire. Sufficiently armed for the time-being, she crept up to the corner, making her movements slow and deliberate. If it was a Junimo or some other creature, she didn’t want to startle it. 

She peeped around the corner, the flame at her side and slightly behind her. She saw movement down the hall to the left, but the flash was so quick that she wasn’t sure she hadn’t made it up. Still, she followed it, being careful not to trip on the uneven floorboards. 

Maeve had been so focused on the fire she was trying to keep alive that she hadn’t noticed the shift in the magical energy she had been following. As she crossed the threshold of what appeared to have been a library, it hit her like a wave, causing her to gasp and extinguish the flame. 

The room was _covered_ in Junimos. Absolutely plastered in them. The lined the walls, stacked like little bushels of apples, some of them rolling across the floor with soft little bumps and squeaks. Others were peering at her from the bookshelves, their tiny faces somehow giving off an expression of – awe, maybe? Confusion? She couldn’t tell, with such tiny eyes and the lack of visible mouths. One in particular, a green one, seemed to be trying to get Maeve’s attention. The little creature was in the center of the room, with all the other Junimos forming a circle around it. 

“Hey there,” Maeve whispered, still afraid that any wrong or loud move would send them skittering away, never to be seen again. All this time her people had been looking for the Junimos, and they had been hiding right here in plain sight. She crouched down and extended her hand, slightly shaky and even tanner from her few days in the fields. “I’m Maeve. It’s nice to meet you.” 

The Junimos, originally so quiet and somber, burst into a fit of sounds at this – again, no words she could understand, but the tone seemed to be joyful, even bubbly. The little green one waddled forward and hopped into her hand, nestling happy into its warmth. She brought him forward, and all the other Junimos came forward in swarms, having judged her as a friendly face. Soon they were piled up to her knees, all of them wanting a turn in her hands. 

Maeve giggled, unable to contain herself. The way her elders had talked about the Junimos had always held a certain kind of reverence, as if the creatures were little gods. Things to be feared, even worshiped, the only things of the forest mightier than the fae. 

_But these little guys are so friendly,_ she thought, _I can’t imagine them being all that powerful. They’re so… small, and cute._ And they were so light. She half expected them to float away like tiny, bloated balloons. 

After a few minutes of petting and swooning, the Junimos went back to that original cleared circle, the green one back to the center. The Junimo wandered back behind the bookcase, the single piece of furniture in the room, clearing some cobwebs as it reached behind it. Maeve’s curiosity itched, but she left it alone, instead politely waiting for the Junimo to come back. It emerged a moment later with a thick golden tablet, barely able to hold the weight up by itself. 

Maeve took the tablet, checking the front and back curiously. Writing was etched on the front side, but as it was written neither in the language of the fae or humans she couldn’t understand what it said. 

“Thank you,” she said politely, and the Junimos chirped in affirmation, clearly pleased. She wondered if anyone back home would be able to read the tablet – surely the elders would know the language of the Junimos, if they had had such a strong symbiotic relationship. She made a mental note to mention it in her next letter. 

The Junimos froze, and instinctively Maeve did as well, even though she wasn’t sure what their heightened senses had picked up. Lewis had said the community center was abandoned. It had certainly _looked_ abandoned. Even that damage to the window had been done ages ago, as the floor had been covered in a thick layer of dust. She clutched the tablet tighter, cursing herself for having forgotten her backpack, and the Junimos scattered, gone just as quickly as they had appeared. 

Maeve shoved the tablet awkwardly into her overalls, hoping that the darkness would conceal the misshapen, unnatural lumps. She focused her ears and heard some light footsteps. A click she couldn’t identify. Whoever it was, she felt reasonably confident that she could take them down if necessary, and tried to look as casual as possible, unsure how strange it would seem for her to be hanging out here alone. Maybe she could sneak out the back and avoid social interaction altogether. 

This failed entirely, as she quickly tripped on a floorboard and landed on her face, the table jabbing her uncomfortably in the side. She let out a string of faerie curse words, stopping only when she noticed a skinny pair of legs in front of her that could only belong to Sebastian, considering the monochromatic color scheme. She took his hand, pale and cool in her own, and let him help her up. 

They stared at each other for a few awkward beats of silence, and Maeve thought about how _different_ Sebastian was from everyone else in town. While most everyone would, at the very least, smile and wave at her as she passed by, Sebastian kept to himself; he somehow occupied less space despite his additional height. 

“Guess I have to find a new hiding spot.” This from Sebastian, dry as Maeve’s mouth as she looked at him. She wasn’t sure if this was supposed to be a joke. 

“Um, no, I mean… I don’t come here often, or ever, I just wanted to check it out.” She didn’t mention that she had a key and could, in fact, come whenever she wanted and probably would. Did this mean Sebastian knew about the Junimos? Did this whole town know about the Junimos and hadn’t bothered to let her know? Like oh, hey, these really powerful magical creatures just happen to be living in our community center, you can totally visit them. 

Sebastian blinked, and Maeve noticed that like everything else he did, he blinked slowly. He wasn’t saying anything, but he wasn’t moving either, and Maeve wasn’t sure what to do. Sebastian, she had learned, was not a prime example of societal standards. 

“It’s okay,” he added. “This isn’t my typical spot anyways. We can share.” He didn’t smile, and again, she wasn’t sure if this was a joke. 

“Thanks,” she murmured, inching her way around him. The hallway was narrow, and she caught a whiff of smoke as she made her way around him. She wasn’t sure what could have produced the smell. 

Neither of them said goodbye, and she left door ajar so he wouldn’t cut himself climbing out the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter and a long distance from the last one. I'm working on this fic for Camp NaNo, so here's hoping this month brings longer (and more frequent) chapters! Thanks for reading and the kudos! <3


	4. Behaving Strangly

The next day Maeve was greeted with a letter, Marnie, and a cat. The letter had been slipped quietly under her door, but Marnie announced herself with an impressively solid knock for her small frame. A ginger tabby was curled up in her arms, fat and fluffy.

“Hello, Miss Maeve. I’m not sure we’ve really gotten a chance to meet yet…” 

“Marnie, isn’t it?” They hadn’t really spoken, but she had watched her in the bar and knew at least three facts: her niece and nephew lived here in town with her, she was the person to go to for livestock, and she was hopelessly in love with the mayor. 

The shorter, stockier woman chuckled heartily at this. “Oh, I suppose my age is showing. I’m sorry.” 

Maeve smiled in response. She was getting more comfortable with it; smiling was a socially acceptable way to react in most situations. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve been busy with the farm,” she said, gesturing vaguely out to the fields. She hoped this visit wouldn’t take long; Marnie wasn’t as long-winded as Lewis, but her cauliflower and green beans were ready for harvest, in addition to the weeds she had to pull, the potatoes she had to plant… 

“So, will you?” Maeve blinked and smiled again, not having heard a word of what Marnie had said. 

“Yeah, of course.” 

“Great!” Marnie shoved the tabby into Maeve’s arms, a great expanse of fluffy orange fur. “There’s already a watering bowl on your farm, so the little guy should be happy here. Might even scare the birds away from your crops.” 

“I-“ Maeve held the vibrating, squirming creature at a distance, unsure what to do with it. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“You said you’d take the cat. He’s been wandering around my farm, but I think he needs a more permanent home. And I’m a dog person.” She added this last comment under her breath, as if to keep the cat from hearing. Maeve noticed faint red scratches crisscrossing her forearms. 

“Oh. Yeah… I guess I could do that.” She had always been good with chickens and birds and things that could fly. Cats were fuzzy and had claws and could see things that the typical animal couldn’t. She suspected, from her few encounters with cats in the woods, that they were capable of sensing higher magic in a way other animals and even humans were oblivious to. “Does he have a name?” 

Marnie shrugged. “I took to calling him Greebo, but you could always change it. I have to get to back to the ranch, so stop by if you need anything!” 

“Greebo,” Maeve whispered, pulling him a little closer and scratching his shoulder blades. He seemed perfectly content to sit here with her, a little oven radiating heat, but she had work to do. Gently – she imagined the cat as a more flexible bird – she placed him on the ground. He immediately curled up and started audibly snoring. Marnie’s assertions that he could scare away the crows were doubtful. 

Letter forgotten and cat accounted for, Maeve set off to do the day’s work – weeding, watering, planting, harvesting. She had two baskets of green beans, one for selling and one for gifts. Lewis had told her, not particularly subtly, that people in town just _loved_ to get fresh vegetables as gifts and wouldn’t it be a nice way for her to make friends? Maeve suspected that they just wanted fresh vegetables without paying for them. Or growing them. But if it made her friends, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing. 

By the time she had finished all of her work, the sun had passed the midpoint. She was going to have to invest in some of this human technology that made farming easier – surely they hadn’t advanced so easily on their own without magic. Perhaps Robin, that carpenter woman, could help her; if not to build what she needed, then to at least give her advice on what she should do. 

The hike to their little mountain home was faster than she expected, despite the blisters forming between her toes. The long hours of labor were paying off, hardening her body. She worried that she was too late – that the store would be closed, Robin would be gone, that maybe she would knock and they would see her but ignore her because she was a cold, hard stranger who didn’t know social cues or even how to grow a decent green bean. None of this happened, and instead Maru’s smiling face greeted her. She was another one of those too-cheerful ones. Maeve noticed she had oil smeared in a thick line across her forehead – perhaps working on that robot thing she had told her about? 

“Hi, Maeve!” Maru said, gesturing for her to come inside. Maeve’s nose instantly scrunched up; something smelled foul and acidic wafting from the kitchen. Robin wasn’t behind the counter, and she suspected the smell was entirely Maru’s doing. Perhaps Demetrius as well. “For what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” 

“Oh, right.” Maeve dug around her basket, pulling out a slightly squashed bunch of green beans. Now that she saw them outside the context of her farm, the accomplishment seemed small, an insufficient gift. “Lewis told me that people like to receive fresh vegetables. I wanted to ask your mother a question, so I thought I would bring some of today’s harvest in exchange.” This settled better with her – an exchange, rather than a gift. A gift to her people meant a debt, something that would eventually have to be repaid. There was no such thing as a free gift. 

“Thank you very much,” said Maru, a little too politely. Perhaps they didn’t like green beans. “Mom will love these. She’s out right now, actually,” she added, confirming Maeve’s suspicions as she put the green beans away and returned to whatever concoction on the stove was making that smell. “I could try and answer your question, unless it’s about construction, which I’m useless at.” 

Maeve stood awkwardly at the entrance to the kitchen, not sure if this was an invitation to enter. It wasn’t as private as a bedroom, but it still felt wrong to her. “Well, taking on the farm was a lot more work than I initially thought…” She waited for Maru to interject, the way Lewis or sometimes Abigail would in their excitement to respond to whatever it was she was saying, no matter how mundane. She stayed quiet, however; Maeve wasn’t even sure if she was listening, she was so focused on the experiment in front of her. “And, ah, well, I’d heard of these sprinkler things, I think they were called? And I thought that would help take down the workload a little. Because, you know, watering can take a lot of time that I just don’t have.” It sounded lazy, now that she said it out loud. But half the day could be wasted trying to keep the plants from going thirsty. 

It took a few more minutes for Maru to finally respond tear her attention away from the simmering pot. “Just had to make sure that wouldn’t explode.” She said this so casually that Maeve almost asked her to repeat it. Surely her parents didn’t allow explosives in the house? “Yeah, that’s exactly what sprinklers are. Do you city folk not have them?” She chuckled at this, as if it were some great joke. Maeve kept quiet, always ready to correct people when they asked about the city, knowing it would get her driven out if they knew the truth. “It’s a good thing mom wasn’t here; she doesn’t know a single thing about farm equipment. Lucky for you, I have just the thing!” Maru rushed off to her room, leaving Maeve alone with the experiment. She inched away from it, unwilling to put its safety to the test. 

While Maru busied herself finding whatever it was – did she just keep sprinklers in her room? – Maeve did her best to take in as much of the house as she could. She hadn’t made enough home visits yet to figure out if it was the case for humans, but for the fae, a home could tell you oodles of information. What kind of magic did the occupant practice, what was precious to them, what did they value? The fae put their wealth and prowess on display. Perhaps that was why they had so many parties when she was young, to show off. She had never really thought of it before. 

The house was modest but clearly built with love. She had a vague memory of Robin telling her they had actually built it themselves, and it was a testament to her craftsmanship, without a single board out of place. She noticed that the hallway had two doors – one for Robin and Demetrius, she assumed, and one for Maru. But where did Sebastian live? 

This was answered only a moment after she thought it by the creak of a door behind her, causing her to jump. Sebastian, pale-faced and bleary-eyed, looked just as surprised to see her as she was to see him. She noted his pajamas, which were really just a large shirt and checkered boxer shorts; his hair, which was actually pushed back so you could see both his eyes, and the fact that it was past three and there was no reason for him to be dressed that way. 

He didn’t say anything as he brushed past her, digging around the fridge until he found a plastic container of some unidentifiable leftovers. Just as they came out of the microwave, without a word between them, Maru returned. Maeve wasn’t sure if his expression came from the pot that had begun to boil over or Maru’s appearance. 

“Hey, glad to see you’re alive,” Maru said. Maeve noticed a false airiness to her tone – an attempt to sound as cheerful as she had been when Maeve walked in. Sebastian just shrugged, shoveling a forkful of steaming mush into his mouth. 

“Barely,” he muttered, and he descended back to his room, slamming the door shut. 

“He lives in the basement?” Maeve asked. No wonder he had such a cold nature. 

Maru nodded, stirring the pot and putting the lid back on. “Yeah. Personal preference, I guess. He barely comes out of that cave unless mom makes him.” The tension hadn’t left her shoulders, but she tried to smile as she handed a heavy bag to Maeve. “I don’t have any sprinklers ready-made, but here’s some blueprints. You should be able to make them yourself, but if you want I can stop by after my shift at the clinic tomorrow to help out.” 

“That’s very kind of you.” She didn’t mention that she didn’t have the materials that seemed to be indicated on the blueprint, or that she had no idea how to construct it, even with the blueprint. Or that the iron would burn her. “I’ll make sure to look into it.” 

Maru had grown focused on the pot and had begun to mutter to herself, so Maeve slipped out the door, casting a final glance at Sebastian’s bedroom door. 

She immediately smelled smoke and groaned. Would the assault on her nose ever end? _Humans must have incredibly dull senses of smell,_ she thought, _to not be bothered by this all the time._ It was coming from the alcove above the house, and she decided to check it out, just in case. Fire was dangerous and fire specialists were valued for their ability to protect the forest from hungry flames. She wasn’t one of those faeries, unfortunately. 

“Hello?” she called. She knew that some humans used to use fires to cook their foods and provide warmth, since they couldn’t use magic for either of those things, and that seemed to be the case here with a little circle of rocks around a roaring fire. A yellow tent was set up behind it, and she wondered how she hadn’t noticed it before. Nobody answered her call, but she saw the tent rustle. Perhaps they would like some green beans? Was there really someone she hadn’t met yet, or was someone from town up here camping for the weekend? 

She tried calling out again, still without a reply. She hesitated to enter the tent – she hadn’t been invited. It was rude. And who knew who was in there? Instead, she left a small pile of vegetables at the entrance and started down the path to the main square. 

When she looked back, the vegetables were gone. 

* * *

It hadn’t been hard to give the beans away. Almost everyone at least appeared enthusiastic about the fresh produce, except for Abigail, who barely disguised her distaste for them. She wasn’t the best at hiding her emotions. So when Maeve returned home with an empty basket and sore feet, she was ready to throw herself into bed. Greebo prevented this, the creature had completely splayed out so as to prevent her from sitting on more than the edge of the mattress. She wasn’t sure how he got in. Hadn’t she locked the door? Greebo purred, or perhaps he snored; Maeve couldn’t be sure what the sound was classified as but he sounded content. Nestled between his paws was the previously forgotten letter. She tugged it, noticing that the corner has been nibbled on. 

“Little menace,” she muttered. Greebo yawned and rolled over. Since he had left no room on the bed, she settled on the floor to read the letter. 

_Maeve, I see that you’ve finally made it to the Pelican Town Community Center. Took you long enough. I’m pleased to see that the Junimos revealed themselves to you. I thought they would, but I couldn’t contact you until I was sure you could see them. Meet me at my tower, in the southwest corner, and I’ll help you decipher the tablet. -M. Rasmodius_

Any exhaustion she had felt was immediately dispelled as she read and reread the letter, written in thick green ink on heavy parchment paper. She had heard rumors about the tower when she was a child, that it was a dangerous place long ago abandoned by anything resembling a human. That some monster had taken up residence there, that they kidnapped and ate the fae children that wandered too close. It had frightened her as a child, and she had mostly forgotten the story, assuming it was just to keep children from wandering too far from home. Now she wondered if there was more than rumor to it. 

Maeve checked out the window and saw that the sun was just now setting. She wondered if it was too late to go pay a visit to this stranger at the tower. It was entirely possible that this was a terrible idea, or even a trap; she had no idea who M. Rasmodius was and hadn’t even heard a whisper about him from the townspeople in the last month. He was a complete mystery, at least to her. 

But if he knew about the Junimos, he couldn’t be that bad. She resolved to set off right then. To at least let him know she had received the note, and that she wanted to know. If only her parents had taught her the Junimo language; she wouldn’t have to go on this risky little mission. Then she would be able to just read the tablet on her own. She left it behind, figuring that if this Rasmodius had ill intentions, it would be easier to fight without it, and she wouldn’t have to worry about losing it. 

The walk was short, and she noticed just how much dead wood and overgrown grass covered the southern portion of her farm. Her muscles ached thinking about all the work to be done. Was this really worth it? Were these people worth it? 

The sun had fully set by the time she reached the tower, but the night was clear and the moon was full, illuminating the ivy winding through various cracked and aging stones. Despite bits of it crumbling off, the tower was mostly intact and looked sturdy enough – not the abandoned structure she had been told stories about. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she knocked at the door, slightly moldy and ancient-looking. It swung open on its own with no apparent source, the lighting too dim for her to make out anything but dim shapes. 

“Hello?” There was a magical energy buzzing inside, but she couldn’t identify what it was – all she could tell was that it was slightly different but also weaker than her own, which gave her the confidence to step inside. 

The door slammed behind her, much more quickly than it had creaked open. She clutched she small knife in her pocket that she always carried with her since she had moved to Pelican Town, ready to slash in case it was a trap. “ 

Reveal yourself!” she hissed, a hint of her fae heritage coming through in the growl. Children’s books always described faeries as airy, bell-like. Sweet, light and sugary. The reality was more like fangs and poison and claws that left scars. “Before I force you to.” 

A figure that was at least a foot taller than her and twice as wide emerged from the shadows, hands extended. “I did not mean to startle you, young one,” the man said, although he didn’t smile as he said it. Maeve did a quick scan of him – tall and broad, yes, but also old, enough that it must have been via magical means. He dressed unlike those in town – old robes, a pointed hat. Long purple beard. Although Maeve didn’t relax her guard, the sight caused her to chuckle inwardly. This magic-dabbler was who she had been afraid of? 

“M. Rasmodius, at your service,” he murmured, taking her hand – much to her chagrin – and raising it to his lips. She quickly withdrew it, scowling at him. 

“Why did you summon me here?” 

This M. Rasmodius man – she resolved to just call him Razzy in her head, as she figured this would probably infuriate him – circled a cauldron in the middle of the room, large and iron, with some kind of green goo bubbling from it. He snapped his fingers, causing a wooden spoon to begin stirring it. Maeve hopped back as drops, sizzling hot enough to burn the floor, splashed out. 

“I noticed a spike in magical energy a few weeks ago, and then word reached me that someone had taken up residence in the old farmer’s home. His granddaughter. Except,” he said, adding some foul-smelling herb to the cauldron, “I know the old man didn’t have a granddaughter. Just a few grandsons.” 

Maeve swallowed, unsure how to craft a believable lie out of this. All of her careful planning – fake birth certificates, falsified photos, extensive research on the family – could fall apart from this one man. 

“Well, I always thought I might have been adopted.” She laughed nervously. Rasmodius didn't. _I could kill him, _she thought, _but I won’t do it except as a last resort.___

___“Can you speak to the Junimos?” Rasmodius asked._ _ _

___She wasn’t sure if she wanted to trust him. Granted, he had sent that letter to her – clearly he already knew more about her than anyone else in town. What she really wanted to know was _how. _Had he been spying on her directly? Did he have sources in town, regular townspeople who knew more than they let on and reported to him about it? Who could she trust? Her heart thumped a little faster as she thought of Sebastian and their meeting in the community center. Had it been more than chance?___ _ _

___“That’s an odd thing to ask.”_ _ _

___Rasmodius glanced at her, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Stop avoiding my questions. You came because I sent you a letter about the Junimos. The fact that you responded at all shows that you knew what I was talking about.”_ _ _

___“Perhaps I only ventured out here because I was curious about what the Junimos were.”_ _ _

___“That’s not it. Now, I know you saw the Junimos, and I’ll have you know that the Junimos revealing themselves to somebody – especially an outsider who, by all appearances, is completely normal.”_ _ _

___Was she imagining it, or did something like suspicion shift behind his eyes as he said that?_ _ _

___“I… I don’t know what to say.” This wasn’t a lie. The thing was, Maeve, as a faerie, wasn't supposed to be able to lie, at least not with words. Crafting her false identity had been difficult, requiring the exploitation of several loopholes. Here, she could only deflect or ignore questions, and she was afraid that she would slip up and reveal something she didn’t want to. “This is a lot to take in, and I barely know what the Junimos are, let alone why they revealed themselves to me. I just know that they did. If you aren’t going to say anything helpful, I have a farm to return to.”_ _ _

___Thunder crashed outside the tower. There hadn’t been a cloud in the sky earlier, and now it was raining, her efforts that morning now wasted. Rasmodius returned to the pot, throwing another herb in the mixture. It sizzled, with a flash of bright sparks and a noxious gas that made Maeve cough. He poured it into a small cup and handed it to her._ _ _

___“Drink this before you go.” He didn’t seem to be about to offer an explanation, instead choosing to stare her down. He gestured for her to drink when she didn’t immediately do so, clearly impatient._ _ _

___“Are you insane?! I’m not going to drink this! For all I know it’s poison.” Maeve coughed again as the smell assaulted her. It sure _smelled _like something that would kill her.___ _ _

___“I assure you, small one, that it isn’t going to kill you. What would I gain from killing then new farmer? Nothing. But if you must know, the concoction I designed should help you to read the language of the Junimos, the letters engraved on that tablet. If you don’t believe me… Well, I guess you’ll never know.” He shrugged, then started bottling the remainder of the cauldron’s potion. “The choice is up to you.”_ _ _

___Maeve eyed the potion one more time before downing it in one gulp. What was the point of coming all this way if she wasn’t going to take some risks? Nothing happened at first, and she wondered if maybe he was bluffing. She regretted leaving the tablet at home, the only thing that could prove if he had been lying or not._ _ _

___“Whatever. You’re a fraud,” she muttered, steeling herself to trek through the rain back to Petalbrooke Farm. “Don’t contact me again.” She slammed the door behind her, childishly relishing the thick _thunk _it made, when green began to spot her vision.___ _ _

___Panic gripped her as she lost her balance and stumbled, scrapping her knees on the slick cobblestone staircase. Her breath became shallow and her heart pounded; the green dots shifted and swirled into odd shapes, completely flooding her vision. It reminded he of the one time she had tried some the festival mushrooms that caused the consumer to see a medley of visions, except so, _so _much worse. Either her heart was failing or she was having an anxiety attack.___ _ _

___She lay there, determined not to return to Rasmodius for help. She was stubborn enough that she would rather suffer or die in the process. A bit later – maybe it was a few seconds, it could have been hours – the green disappeared, slowly fading into the corners of her vision until everything was clearer. Her breathing was at a normal rate again, if a bit labored. She flexed her fingers – all there, all functioning._ _ _

___“A cruel joke,” she said, wincing as she stood up. The fall had scrapped more than her knees. She limped all the way back to the farmhouse and wrapped herself in a blanket, not even bothering to shed her wet clothes on the way to bed._ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the sweet comments! I appreciate feedback on this little work of mine. :)

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm really excited to be working on this!!! I got hit with the inspiration for a Fae-based character because I think there needs to be more magic involved in the Stardew Valley universe.
> 
> I love comments, so hit me UP with that sweetness


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